


It's always better on holiday

by Tovarich



Series: Good Omens Celebration 2020 [17]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Good Omens Celebration 2020, M/M, Skiing, Tenderness, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:54:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24541144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tovarich/pseuds/Tovarich
Summary: They had been coming here since the late 70's, every year in January. Even when they were still supposed to be adversaries, their time here had been like a break from their ordinary lives. It was like living in a safe bubble for a few days before going back to the real world. Crowley didn't have any bad memories from this place, it had always been a place for them to relax, live in peace and joy and innocence.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Good Omens Celebration 2020 [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1727137
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17
Collections: Good Omens Celebration





	It's always better on holiday

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt for day 17 of the Good Omens Celebration 2020 was "holiday".   
> I'm Swiss and I haven't gone skiing for a few years and I think my subconscious might miss it more than I was aware of.   
> I hope you'll enjoy reading this fic!

Crowley parked outside a small house in a ski resort in the Swiss mountains. He opened the passenger door and offered his hand to Aziraphale before he went to open the door. Aziraphale and Crowley had an apartment on the second floor of the house. The first floor belonged to neighbours they had never met. The flat was small, it was still cold inside. But it was familiar, the wooden floor creaking under his feet as he went to turn the heating on. It was the end of January, the sky was overcast, wind howling in the early afternoon. Aziraphale joined him inside, carrying their bags in both his hands, leaving them in the kitchen for the time being.

"It's going to snow tonight," Aziraphale remarked, glancing at the heavy grey clouds hanging low in the sky.

Crowley nodded, "The weather should be nice tomorrow, though. We'll have good snow." He smiled.

They had been coming here since the late 70's, every year in January. Even when they were still supposed to be adversaries, their time here had been like a break from their ordinary lives. It was like living in a safe bubble for a few days before going back to the real world. Crowley didn't have any bad memories from this place, it had always been a place for them to relax, live in peace and joy and innocence.

During the first few decades, they had rented the flat from one of Aziraphale's human friends, a book collector who had come to the bookshop a few times. When he died, he bequeathed the place to Aziraphale. They had seen the village change over the years, going from a scarcely populated village to a little town with very little space left for nature or even new buildings. New houses and apartment blocks rising from the ground every year. Admittedly it wasn't as beautiful as it used to be, but it still felt good to come back.

"We should go to the supermarket before it closes, dear, buy what we might need for the next few days."

Crowley hummed in acknowledgement, clearly not thrilled at the prospect of going outside again.

"We'll buy some good wine from that little shop too," Aziraphale added, trying to motivate Crowley.

"Alright, alright!" Crowley conceded. 

* * *

They came back home just before fat snowflakes started falling from the sky. Crowley started cooking while Aziraphale went to the bedroom to make the bed. The smells coming from the kitchen made his stomach rumble. He hadn't eaten anything since that flavourless meal in the aeroplane and he was starting to get hungry. Moreover, Crowley was an excellent cook for someone who so rarely ate.

Aziraphale went back to the kitchen to set the table. He hugged Crowley from behind, wrapping his arms around his slim waist and leaving a kiss on the back of Crowley's neck.

"What are you cooking?" He asked, peering curiously at the pan.

Crowley turned his head slightly, just enough to kiss Aziraphale's soft cheek. "Nothing too fancy, I'm afraid. Just some beef stew with mashed potatoes and a salad."

"Can't wait to taste it," Aziraphale said with a little wiggle of joy.

Crowley smiled fondly, staring at the pans on the stove. He loved this angel so much his heart could burst. For centuries he had thoughts his feelings weren't reciprocated. And for many other centuries, he had been certain that even if they were, there was absolutely no chance for them. He could almost cry from the simple joy of feeling Aziraphale's warm body pressed against his back, of hearing his voice in his ear, of knowing Aziraphale was there, by his side, every single day of his life.

As always, Crowley spent more time watching Aziraphale savour his meal than actually eating. He still finished his plate, although he didn't eat as much as Aziraphale did. When he cooked, he always did it for Aziraphale, because he enjoyed watching him eat. He enjoyed seeing the expression of pure delight on his face, hearing the delicious sounds the came out of his mouth with every new bite he took. He ate mostly because it pleased Aziraphale. Although, he had to admit that he was starting to see why the angel loved food so much.

They ended the evening on the old couch, under a thick woollen blanket to protect them from the evening chill. Aziraphale was reading a book while Crowley watched a TV show on his phone. It was a typical night for them, quietly sharing space and warmth, completely together without having to say a single word. But once his episode ended, Crowley wanted to have Aziraphale's attention. He started kissing his shoulder, his lips trailing up his throat to his jaw. Aziraphale's eyes were still focused on his page. He had tilted his head back and held his book over his head. Crowley growled, the sound coming from the back of his throat. He kissed Aziraphale's jaw, leaving a few kisses just under his chin. He could swear he saw he small smile on Aziraphale's lips. He proceeded to kiss his way back to Aziraphale's cheek, leaving a few gentle kisses there. But Aziraphale still seemed unwilling to leave his book aside, so Crowley slowly went to press his lips on Aziraphale's. Finally, the angel closed his eyes, leaving his book beside him on the couch. He let out a small appreciative hum as he tangled his fingers in Crowley's red curls.

"Come to bed with me, angel," Crowley murmured against Aziraphale's lips.

* * *

Just as Crowley said, the next day was beautiful. The sky was cloudless, pure blue with a bright sun. although it was still cold, it felt good. They were dressed in warm ski clothes and barely felt the chill, although Crowley still made a point to complain about the freezing temperatures. Aziraphale thought Crowley looked very tempting in his fashionable, all black attire. He still wore his usual sunglasses, a little demonic miracle ensuring they wouldn't fall from his face. Aziraphale was in his usual colours: beige ski trousers, a tartan jacket, and a blue woollen hat. Crowley complained about tartan again, but Aziraphale knew he liked his outfit, even just a little bit.

They never woke up early, usually arriving on the ski runs around 1pm. They didn't need to spend the whole day skiing; they weren't that kind of people. In fact, they probably spent more time lounging outside the little bar on the slide of the slopes. But they still enjoyed sliding down the slopes, Aziraphale at a far more reasonable speed than Crowley. The demon enjoyed going fast, feeling the wind slap his face, slaloming between humans who didn't dare go as fast as him. He loved the thrill of speed, the freedom that came with it. But he never failed to wait for Aziraphale at their usual meeting spots along the runs, watching the angel idly coming down to join him, taking large turns that took him from one side of the slope to the other. Sometimes, Crowley would adjust his speed to Aziraphale's so that they could chat together. Crowley loved the smile that bloomed on Aziraphale's lips whenever he did that. He had never been very good at expressing his feelings through words, but he tried to convey his affection through small gestures. He was trying to say 'don't worry, angel, I'll always wait for you. I'll never force you to go faster than what you're comfortable with.' And he had no doubt Aziraphale understood perfectly.

As always, they ended up stopping for a drink at the little wooden cabin on the right side of the slopes. Crowley's shiny black snowboard adorned with a red snake stood in stark contrast to Aziraphale's worn pastel blue skis as they lay side by side in the snow. As usual, Aziraphale took a hot cocoa with whipped cream and marshmallows, humming with delight at every sip. Crowley grinned at him over the rim of his glass of red wine. Moments like these used to be stolen instants of happiness in a life of worry, during all those decades where they had tried to navigate their often stormy relationship, hiding their feelings from each other as well as their respective head offices. Now they didn't have to hide anymore, but those moments of bliss, far from home and their daily routine, were still very precious to both of them.

* * *

They had decided to eat out that evening, going to the restaurant they always went to, a few minutes away from their flat at the village. It was the best place to eat cheese fondue and Aziraphale never settled for anything less than perfect when it came to food.

"Do you remember the first time we came here?" Aziraphale asked in an amused tone, dipping a piece of bread in the fondue pot.

Crowley chuckled. "How could I forget? You were so upset!"

On their first visit to the restaurant, Aziraphale and Crowley had been told the kitchen were already closed and they were only served sandwiches and a salad. They would have accepted that without a fuss if it wasn't for the fact that about fifteen minutes later a waiter brought warm dishes to the group of ten people who had just arrived. Aziraphale had been seething.

"Dear Henri had been very angry with the owner when I told him what happened. He had some very strong words with the owner," Aziraphale laughed.

"I still don't know exactly what he told him, but it was very efficient," Crowley grinned, taking a sip from his glass of Chardonnay.

It had been so efficient that the next day, the owner had come to their flat with a bottle of wine in his hand and an apology on his lips. "You should have said you were Henri's friend, I thought you were just strangers!" Aziraphale had been puzzled, but he figured it was just the way things were around here. It was clear that people in those villages in Valais had a peculiar sense of hospitality.

Aziraphale looked at the small basket full of pieces of bread and then at Crowley. "Do you want more bread, dear?" he asked, mostly out of politeness.

"Nah, I'm good angel." Crowley had eaten two small pieces of bread coated in melted cheese and that had been sufficient to fill his stomach. Fondue was quite a heavy dish after all. Besides, he found it much more enjoyable to watch Aziraphale's twinkle with happiness as he ate his delectable meal while he drank most of the wine.

* * *

It was their last night in their bubble out of time. It used to be a sad moment, realising they had to return to the real world, pretend to be enemies, sometimes even believing they were. It used to make them cry, quietly in the dead of night, silently when they thought the other wouldn't hear. They used to look at each other with regret pooling in their eyes, stubbornly refusing to let it slide down their cheeks in salty droplets. They used to keep their mouths shut to prevent heavy words to slip from the tip of their treacherous tongues.

It wasn't a sad moment anymore. Going back to the real world didn't hold any sadness now, not since they'd been able to live together, openly, happily. There was still a form of melancholy that came with going back home after a vacation, but it wasn't tinged with regret and fear and anger. The atmosphere wasn't heavy in the old-fashioned living room as they sat together, laughing and smiling and talking about what they would do upon returning to London. Their voice didn't crack as they spoke, the light-heartedness in their tone wasn't faked. And when Crowley unceremoniously carried Aziraphale to the bedroom, there was no pressure on their chest, nothing obstructing their lungs, keeping them from laughing loudly, freely. And when Crowley threw Aziraphale on the soft mattress before starting a tickle attack, there was no lingering heaviness. It was just the two of them, happy.

Aziraphale was squirming under Crowley's clever fingers, shrieking with laughter, trying to regain his breath. Aziraphale's laughter was contagious and Crowley wasn't immune to it. He soon found himself out of breath too, laughter bubbling from his lips, even as he still pinned Aziraphale down with his lithe body.

"I surrender, I surrender!" Aziraphale said, breathlessly. His abs hurt from laughing and squirming, a delicious burn in the muscles of his belly.

"Oh really," Crowley replied with a predatory smile, his fingers relentlessly assaulting the most ticklish parts of Aziraphale's soft body, "asking for mercy already, angel?"

Aziraphale's laughter had gone almost silent from how out of breath he was. "Yes! Please, please. Mercy!"

Crowley stilled his hand. Leaving a kiss on the corner of Aziraphale's mouth, he whispered, "Hmmm, you're lucky I love you so much, angel."

"I know, my dear," Aziraphale replied, wrapping his arms around Crowley's waist, bringing him down so that his head rested on Aziraphale's heaving chest.

Aziraphale looked so young like that, with his cheeks flushed and his hair mussed, with his joyous smile and dimples, with his eyes shining with love and happiness. Aziraphale looked so young, as if he didn't carry the weight of centuries on his shoulders. Aziraphale looked so young, and Crowley felt young too. As if all those millennia on Earth had been erased and Crowley had been granted a second birth. A new life, happier, free from the burden of being a demon. Crowley felt young, and he felt loved. And Aziraphale's love for him felt even more powerful than the Grace he had been deprived of, it illuminated every dark corner of Crowley's soul, healed all the wounds from his past, appeased all his fears. And Crowley loved Aziraphale. He loved Aziraphale in a way he hadn't known he was capable of. But they were young, they had been offered a second birth, a new life, after the world didn't end. They were free and their hearts were light, their minds unburdened. And under the pale moonlight, they weren't an angel and a demon, they didn't have to be. They were only two beings who loved each other deeply, eternally. Two being who had chosen to love each other long before they were ready to acknowledge it and had finally been given the chance to love each other freely.


End file.
